


Incursion

by inappropriatefangirlneeds



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode IX: The Rise of Skywalker, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Boot Worship, Dubious Consent, Hurt, Internal Conflict, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:53:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21994789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inappropriatefangirlneeds/pseuds/inappropriatefangirlneeds
Summary: Full disclosure I haven´t even watched "Star Wars Episode IX: The Rise of Skywalker"  and yet I needed some kind of fix it. After General Hux is shot and he has some internal meeting with the grand Wilhuff Tarkin, more or less, mostly with his boots. (Yes I briefly contemplated throwing in *the* slippers the tone took a detour to one where that didn´t fit at all.) [Note: Consent technically dubious]
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Wilhuff Tarkin
Comments: 4
Kudos: 9
Collections: Wilhuff





	Incursion

Hux should have died like him. The Grand Moff. He should have just stayed at the Starkiller base, unwavering, gaze unfazed and exploded. He should have been taken up in his magnum opus. Just like Wilhuff Tarkin but then his orders had him abandon his station. He had to stumble through snow to gather up what had been left oft he great Kylo Ren. He should have long been dead by then. Hux had always looked up to Tarkin, had admired this man and his accomplishments, strived to follow his footsteps but now it was evident that he hadn´t measured up. It was just fitting that even in death the Grand Moff was miles ahead of him.  
But Hux had deemed it just another set back. One step among many, the path clear and him marching forward on it, even if there were some halts and detours. Starkiller had been grand, truly grand. It couldn´t stop there. Hux thought it was just another time where he simply had to get up, just like the many times when Snoke or Kylo had thrown him to the ground. Although those negligible incidents were a bad comparison, truly nothing to dwell on, sure the resentment festered and grew but Hux could not let his pride and hurt ego be in the way of his goals. There was no room for feeling humiliated in his schedule. Keep your composure and carry on. He could not let anyone know how debased he felt in those moments and how he envied Tarkin for not having to deal with this undignified conduct. Sure, the files showed that Kylo´s great hero force choked and killed personell left and right but never Tarkin. He has had the wits to recognize a great man, unlike Kylo who was blind and deaf in this regard. Or was it Tarkin who had the talent to make Vader understand, unlike himself who could never make Kylo truly see reason. Or, maybe he had to accept that he just wasn´t like Tarkin at all and that he deserved all the pain and abasement he had to suffer from those hands versed in wielding the force. Doubt filled Hux mind, his body burned, waves of pain were running through it from where the blaster had hit him. No, his men had respected him. He could have been a figure of ridicule among them too, jokes and banter about the rag doll that got thrown around the ship could have filled the mess hall and the barracks but they didn´t. Hux liked to believe that this was because he let them see the difference, showed them his pride unharmed and untouched, showed them that he was very unlike this childish beast he had to deal with, the one they all had to deal with. Hux had always been clear on rank but cherished the bond of a certain level of camaraderie, being at the receiving end of Kylo´s tantrums bonded him with his subordinates. He could not blame those who broke down in tears after facing this sheer terror of having thin air almost end your life. It was one thing to give your life for the cause, they all were prepared to face death on duty but this pure capriciousness of what Kylo did was something else. Moreover it was a very special kind of horror to know that someone can torture you to death with as little as the wave of a hand or less, to know someone would do that and to experience how the start of this would feel. Hux could not allow this terror to spread though the ranks, while it pleased him to see that Kylo was not appreciated, he needed the Order to work smoothly. The First Order was too important to let his personal whims get in the way. He had worked too hard for that. Or so he had thought. 

There was nothing left that he could do now. He couldn´t get up. Every nerve in Hux had tried to elude the hit from the blaster but now they could not even reach his legs. The pain turned everything into a blur, making something so ordinary as to be sure about if his legs were still attached to his body difficult, using them to stand up was entirely out of question. It was unlike all the other times when he had risen from the ground. The general had smoothed his uniform, put his hair back in place and not bothered to clean the blood from his face most of the time. Wounded or not they had to serve the cause of the First Order. He persisted. He endured. But now, now he was shot, and worse a traitor. 

The physical pain was excruciating but it was nothing compared to the shame this thought made him feel. It had been his decision, it had been a calculated one but “Hux the traitor” was a thought every fiber of his being strained against. He wasn´t only a mere failure now, he was worse. 

There was not deeper low he could have reached. 

That was when he heard the boots. Even steps approaching him, substantial yet not pompous. Hux would have recognized this stride everywhere. He had watched so many Holos of Tarkin just walking, it was easy to explain everything else as research but just watching him walk, Hux had been glad he never had to justify that. Seeing how Tarkin carried himself, watch how his silhouette moved and how his whole presence commanded respect that, that he had enjoyed on a level far beyond research. Tarkin could just be in the room, keep to the side lines of what was happening but once he wished to do so he had the room in his thrall. A mere gesture or turn of his head reached so much more than all of Kylo´s violent outbursts combined. Many times Hux had thought about walking on the side of Tarkin through those corridors. He had spent a great deal imagining the conversations they would have. Even the eloquence of the Tarkin in his mind was no match to anyone he had ever met. Conversation was just one of the many things this man excelled at. Right now however, there was no need for words. 

Tarkin had reached him, heavy boots coming to a halt right where he was cowering on the floor. Hux just now became aware of the pathetic position he was in. There was no doubt about it once he dared to lift his gaze a little. Wordlessly the face of the other man conveyed everything, clearer than speech could ever do it. Not even when Hux had looked into the eyes of his father had he seen disdain like this. Armitage had no doubt that Brendol had felt it, but once his own eyes brimmed with contempt, his father´s didn´t weigh as heavy as it had when he had been younger. Tarkin however, for Tarkin Hux had nothing but admiration, nothing to shield himself from judgement. 

The Grand Moff looked down on him and Hux swallowed through the lump that was forming in his throat Tarkin had just stopped long enough for him to really feel the shame, to start to worry, think about what Tarkin being here could mean, to become scared down to his bones of what he would do, to even long for Tarkin to do something, anything that relieved him from this gaze, fear and dishonor tainted Hux whole being, while at the same time his mind felt as empty and blank as it had never been before. „On hands and knees.“ Tarkin´s words cut through everything and became all that Hux could hear and think. There was no emotion in his voice, no hints of the disdain his face displayed and somehow that made it worse. 

Although made it easy as well, an order to follow. Did it get easier than that? Hux´s body almost moved into position all on its own. Once Hux was on his hands and knees his head hung between his shoulders, he didn´t dare to lift his gaze from the floor as soon as he noticed Tarkin moving again. From the corner of his eye Hux saw how close to his hand Tarkin had stepped, how he had almost crushed his fingers under his heavy boot. He felt queasy at the thought until hands on his waistband made Hux hold his breath. Not much later his skin was exposed to the air, cold or hot, Hux could not tell but he noticed how a whole new kind of shame mixed with his existing one. His face felt like the skin was burning off. Still he´d have his whole body flayed and rubbed with all the salt on Crait, if only it would erase his shame and failure. Instead slender fingers clothed in thick leather dug into his hips with a strong grip. This could have been one of the fantasies he had entertained every now and then. In the refresher, under black sheets, on his chair even, when the work had piled and he hadn´t seen his bed in ages. What proceed utterly lacked what had made these fantasies so enjoyable. 

Tarkin just pushed into him without any preparation or warning, not even granting the liberty of a little time to adjust to his girth. It burned. The dry friction made it feel like his insides were scraped off. Hux grimaced against the floor. It was what he deserved and he´d take it. 

In his past fantasies he hadn´t shied away from pain, in fact he had sought it. The scenarios he entertained had altered between between punishment and praise. Whatever he had longed for after a long day, sometimes both had even mixed in the most exquisite way. It just had never been like it was happening now. Never had he been such a failure. Hux heart sunk when he recalled how he had imagined Tarkin interacting with him, how he had imagined the man would appreciate his touch, even compliment some of his designs. How foolish. Was there anything more asinine? Hux could consider himself more than blessed that Tarkin even bothered with his worthless self, truly having Tarkin´s cock ripping him in half was more than he deserved. Hux suspected the relentless pace the man was using on him had already ruptured his skin and flesh but he couldn´t be sure, at this point it was becoming impossible to distinguish one pain from the other, nevertheless his blood rushed and it had filled his cock. Hux could, once more only imagine what the Grand Moff thought of him getting off on his own failure. The ultimate treachery, vile beyond words and utterly undeserving of the seed Tarkin spilled into him after one last hard thrust. 

Hux felt something liquid run down his thigh before a boot on his hip pushed him down on the ground. He had provided what little he still had been useful for. 

Yet he wasn´t discarded fully. Tarkin had circled him once more. A heel dug into the nape of hux´s neck, directing his head in a way that his right cheek lay flush on the floor before the rest of the sole came down to press his skin further into the ground. Hux couldn´t quite remember if it had first been Snoke or Ren who had him forced into a similar position or whether it had been his own imagination that came up with a picture of him trapped between hard floor and Tarkin´s boots even before that. His memory failed to provide an answer to whether he had first jerked off to the thought of Tarkin´s hand around his neck or, if he had felt that invisible abomination crush his windpipe before that. Just one thing was sure, the choking had happened by Kylo´s doing, Snoke was less personal in that way. Hux couldn´t recall if the abuse precessed his fantasies or if Kylo and Snoke just made them become some kind of twisted reality ... but what did it matter? Neither of them could do it anymore. Only Tarkin. Neither Kylo nor Snoke mattered anymore. Neither did he. Pressed down on the ground with just a little leeway to breath, what did it matter? Hux felt the tread dig into his skin, soon it could be all over once more. Tarkin pushing all air and life out of him, along with the grudge and shame that was attached to the previous blaster shot … Hux would thank him for that. It was a liberating thought. He could let go, just let go of everything. 

There was a hint of disappointment flaring up in Hux when the pressure was lessened after Tarkin had roughly shoved his head once more. The man was still standing in front of him, boots visible in Hux´s narrow field of vision. Shiny, spotless, cleaner than he could get his own after a while of wear, staunch and indomitable they stood right in front of him. There was no thought or calculation behind it when Hux rose a little, surprised he could muster the strength to do so. Nothing but pure impulse when he brought his lips to the tip of one of the boots to kiss it. Hux half expected to get his jaw shattered by a concise kick but nothing of that sort happened. Tarkin just stood at parade rest, impressive as ever.  
Hux placed another kiss with trembling lips and Tarkin let him. Tarkin let him even lick over the leather, that felt so supple under Hux´s tongue. With broad strokes and little licks he coated the boot in his saliva, After a while Hux even dared to bring his hands forward and cling to the boots. He moved up the shaft, yet did not dare to look up in Tarkin´s face. He just relished in how the leather under his lips made him feel. Hux even cast aside the meticulousness he used to pride himself in. His licks turned sloppy, he let his tongue go limb and just ran it over wherever he pleased at the moment. The thought of making sure not to miss a single spot was a faint one, far, far back in his mind, instead he just inhaled the scent of the leather. The more he let himself go, the more he felt his pain fading. Hux´s legs spread to give his erection more room, its throbbing was taking more and more room in his conscious, filling the space that had been full of burning pain just moments ago. Hux wasn´t even thinking anymore about how he could satisfy Tarkin the best way, what would earn him some praise. Hux was just enjoying his presence and drinking in all the sensations while he was lapping over the leather. He let his hands roam and glide over the boots, fingers inching higher and higher until they had reached the edge. A moment of hesitation made them halt before Hux dared to leave leather and allowed his fingertips feel the uniform.  
The fabric was almost rough in comparison to the leather. His hand wasn´t slapped away so Hux grabbed a hand full of fabric, lifting his body from the floor some more. There was an ache when he moved but not as much as he had expected. Daring he looked up, eyes moving all the way along pressed seams and neat folds. Tarkin looked like the paramount example of an imperial officer, how else could it be. Not a unruly hair or a single bead of sweat suggested that this was the man who had just fucked him raw. Hux sought for the disdain in Tarkin´s face. He couldn´t find it, couldn´t find anything he could point his finger at. Indifference, interest, compassion whatever it was, it seemed futile for Hux to to try decipher as long as his hands were allowed to go higher and higher, as long as they weren´t stopped from undoing the buckle of the uniform. 

Hux opened Tarkin´s pants in a foolish fear of everything falling apart the last minute and he just took his length into his mouth as soon as he possibly could. He felt it grow in his mouth while he let his tongue run over it. When he started to slowly dragged his lips along Tarkin´s cock he heard him gasp ever so little. Tarkin´s chest was rising with his breaths and Hux felt bliss he hadn´t experienced for a long time. It was so much realer than any of his fantasies, the sensation, the little pool of precum through which he dragged the tip of his tongue, how Tarkin´s taste had overtaken his mouth and chased away the leather. Hux savoured the velvety texture that was so warm and so very unlike the boots had been. He was nursing the tip for a while before he swallowed as much as he could, drawing a low moan from the other man. Raising his head Hux looked into a relaxed face, head tilted back and lids handing low. The way Tarkin´s lips were parted just slightly sent waves of arousal through Hux. He didn´t have the heart to unclench his hands, which had entangled themselves into the loose fabric that hung from Tarkin´s frame, he couldn´t let go of that yet. This meant that his hips were left to uselessly thrust into air, just scraping over the fabric of his pants that still hung on his legs. All worries about how undignified this was were long gone, Hux just focused on relaxing his throat and take in as much as he could, over and over again.  
His own arousal grew with Tarkin´s voice getting lower and lower. When his face was buried in the man´s groin a gloved hand wrapped itself round the back of Hux´s head and kept him where he was. Tarkin placed one foot right between Hux legs just shy of touching his cock, leaving it to Hux to close the distance. Hux did immediately, pushing hot flesh on the cold leather, rubbing his skin over rough seams while the air in his lungs got less and less. Hux was basically rutting against the benevolently placed boot, not caring in the slightest that the effort strained his breathing even more. Tarkin´s grip was firm but not painful. The hand didn´t move when Hux ´s head started to push back instinctively. For a few seconds Hux felt his whole body tensing up but just before the pressure could break out Tarkin´s hand dragged his head back. Hux lungs drew in all the air they could gather and he had to suppress a cough. His lips where still around Tarkin´s cock, which now pushed back into his mouth, while his head was kept locked in place. Hux could just focus on the movement of his own hips while allowing his mouth to be used as Tarkin seemed fit. He was so close. Had it been anyone else the friction of the leather wouldn´t have been enough, maybe if he could fuck a gap between the boots getting the sensation on both sides, but with Tarkin Hux fed upon the noise of his groans, gorged himself on the way how Tarkin´s meticulous rhythm actually faltered before it came to a halt and the hand in his hair tightened. After feeling thick seed hit the back of his throat it took only a few more thrusts for Hux to be sent over the edge as well. Any sound was silenced by the softening cock still in his mouth. This and Tarkin´s hand were the only things that kept Hux still up, once they withdrew slowly Hux collapsed to the floor, his cheek resting half on Tarkin´s boots just right next to where he had soiled them. 

It wasn´t only his own ragged breathing that he heard, this time the man above him was audibly struggling for air as well. Even though Tarkin was far from the defiled picture Hux provided his breathing had not quite returned to its usual evenness. Wasn´t Tarkin a failure too after all? Maybe that´s why they were both here. Both their work blown up into inconsequentiality. The Deathstar had inspired Starkiller but that legacy was rubble now as well. Gone. Vanished. Hux felt utterly empty, something that should have unburdened him, but why was he still thinking about his failures. Had he reached some kind of purgatory? Forced to live through his shame again and again just for it to be renewed. Tasting absolution just to spit it out again? Wasn´t death meant to put an end to all of this, sweet relief and why did the leather of Tarkin´s boots smell like bacta? Before Hux could ponder more about it he heard a voice „General“ …. „General Hux“ . A much softer „Armitage“ followed and Hux opened his eyes to see who had said it.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, please let me know what you think!


End file.
